Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,42

of it soon, she’s going to blow this all to hell.

Keeping my hand low, I tap her leg. Her eyes immediately snap to mine, and I silently mouth the words, “Jade Saxton.”

She furrows her eyebrows.

“Be Jade Saxton,” I mouth again. “Play the role.” I hope what I’m saying gets through to her because if she doesn’t start acting like an heiress, we’re fifty shades of fucked.

Wrenn turns back around, and drops what looks to be a giant Ziploc on his desk. “I’ll need a DNA sample.”

I knew this was coming. I prepared for it. That test will go to QuestTech Labs and come back a one-hundred percent match for Alexandra Romanov.

I turn toward Angel. Her head is lowered, her gaze on the twisted fingers in her lap. I’ve done all I can. The ball’s in her court now.

Wrenn clears his throat. “Miss Smith.”

Angel lifts her chin, and I swear to Christ, it’s like someone else takes over. Her shoulders push back, and she straightens her spine. Hands that moments ago were clenched in her lap drape flawlessly over the arms of the chair. Even the wide, panicked eyes that silently searched for a quick escape, lower to half-lidded disinterest. But what almost knocks me sideways is her mouth. Gone are the tight, pressed lips. Instead, a hint of a smile slightly curves them upward.

Secret. Mysterious.

Fucking regal.

I’ll be damned.

Placing her hands on the edge of the desk, Angel leans forward. “Of course, Mr. Wrenn. My family’s reputation is at stake. It’s the least I can do.”

Wrenn’s jaw drops. “Well said, Miss Smith.”

“Actually, Mr. Wrenn, it’s Miss Romanov.” Dragging the Ziploc toward her, she lifts it up, dangling it between her thumb and forefinger. “And I can prove it.”

Chapter Eighteen

Angel

Two weeks of waiting.

Two weeks of trusting a man who doesn’t deserve it.

Not to mention two weeks of dodging paparazzi who know where we’re going to be before we do. It’s gotten so bad we haven’t left Dominic’s house in three days.

Well, until today, that is.

Day fourteen.

I count my steps as I pace the perimeter of BTN’s empty office, pausing every fifth step to glare at Dominic, hand shoved in his hair and hunched over his desk behind the glass walls of his office.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

My steps falter as my dream invades my thoughts again. Just like it’s done every day for the past two weeks. I smell pennies. The words echo in my ears when I’m awake and haunt me when I sleep.

“It’s time to go, little one. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life.”

On my fifth time around the office, Milly glances up from filing her nails and swings a jean-clad leg out in front of me. “Would you sit down? You’re starting to stress me out.”

“Were you with Dominic when he got that tattoo on his hand?”

She pauses mid-file, her fingers tightening around the plastic handle. “What?”

I shake my head. “Never mind.” An uncomfortable silence falls around us as Milly goes back to her manicure. My eyes shift back to Dominic, still at his desk, one hand gripping his phone, the other palming the back of his neck. Sighing, I nod toward his office. “What’s he doing in there?”

Milly follows my gaze. “Hard to say. Normally, I’d say running an international news empire.” Puffing out her cheeks, she blows a steady breath across her hand, sending a cloud of nail dust into the air. “But since you occupy every portion of his brain these days, I assume he’s playing the role of your press secretary, Miss Romanov.”

The sarcasm in her voice is so thick I almost choke on it.

“Look, you don’t like me. I get it. It’s obvious you two are close.” She arches an eyebrow, because she’s no idiot. There’s a “but” attached to this ego stroke. “But in being close, you also know this whole thing was his idea. He came to me.”

A smirk curls Milly’s lip as she stretches her legs across the top of the desk. “And what are the odds he stumbled upon the one girl who has every reason to hold a grudge against him?”

I bristle at her jab. “Let’s be honest, lots of people have a grudge against him.”

“Let’s be honest, only one has gotten close enough to see it through.”

Steeling my jaw, I hold her accusatory stare. Hell yeah, I have a grudge. Any half-sane person in my position would. A year of poverty and shame isn’t something you just let go of because the villain